Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

PIPER

Sitting at the small table, Piper listened to the unfamiliar sounds of the city. She was used to the comforting background noise of the Consulate—her father’s and uncle’s rumbling voices, the other consuls chatting, somber conversation between daemons, and the occasional angry altercation.

Here, the soundtrack was disconcertingly different. The creaking of pipes and buzzing of cheap light bulbs. The ancient refrigerator making a strange grinding noise, though it was a miracle that a place like this had any working appliances, let alone electricity and running water. Piper knew she’d grown up in luxury, but it was a harsh wake-up call to sit in a cold, barren room that smelled like mold and realize that for most people in the city, this was luxury.

Through the thin walls, a couple was arguing—crying interspersed with variations of “the last of our money” and “we’re going to starve!” yelled over and over. Piper winced with each new shout. Another privilege she knew she should have appreciated but hadn’t really: always having food.

Someone in another unit was blasting music on terrible speakers, and whoever lived on the floor above kept pacing in circles, their heavy footfalls moving back and forth without pause. Piper wondered what was driving them to pace for so long without stopping. Were they also wondering where their next meal would come from?

She glanced at the tote of food they’d brought from the Consulate. How long until she was pacing with hunger?

A nonstop stream of unpleasant thoughts paraded through her brain, but she wasn’t interested in returning to the musty sofa for a nap. Ash and Lyre were still asleep in the bedroom, sharing the rickety bed to give Piper privacy— some privacy. Zwi had spent the daylight hours lurking in the shadows above the kitchen cupboards, her golden eyes surveying the apartment.

Piper had taken a long shower, put her damp hair in a high ponytail, and redressed in her layered outfit. Then she’d had nothing to do but sit around and worry. Ash had said they needed to wait for full dark before heading to Lilith’s nightclub.

Impatience chewing at her, Piper straightened the file folders still covering the table, aligning them all at right angles to the scuffed wooden edge. More than her own future prospects, being in the dark about basically everything was eating at her—not knowing if her father was alive, if her uncle was safe and recovering, if the Gaians were involved, if Lilith had the information they needed… and if trusting Ash was a huge mistake.

Not that she trusted him. But she was following his lead and relying on him to get her to the Gaians. To be fair, he hadn’t done anything nefarious—aside from being unexpectedly helpful, in his stony, taciturn way.

Piper opened the closest folder, just for something to do. It was the one with information on high-risk daemons. She flipped through them, reading a little of each page and studying the occasional accompanying photo. Micah’s came up again, and she hastily turned past it.

These sorts of daemons were the reason humanity almost universally feared and loathed daemon kind. These daemons were predators who couldn’t control their bloodletting instincts or didn’t even try. Or they simply didn’t care to follow human laws or any level of moral goodness. If they wanted to kill, they killed.

The only thing daemons respected was power. It was something Piper’s mother had said often—probably in an attempt to embed the message in her impulsive daughter’s psyche.

“Some daemons can be friendly or helpful,” she’d told Piper. “But once they shade, it doesn’t matter whether they genuinely like you. They’ll try to dominate or kill you. You need to make them respect you. That’s how you survive among daemons.”

Easier said than done.

Piper turned the page, and her heart stuttered. Another familiar face filled the photo clipped to the paper.

Ash.

He was looking at something distant, unaware of the photographer. His dark hair was exactly the same as she knew it, braided with that strip of red silk, but his features were colder than she’d ever seen—merciless and deadly.

Beside the picture was a short list.

Primary Name: Ash

Other names: Ashtaroth (unconfirmed)

Origin: Underworld (region unknown)

Caste: Draconian

“Ashtaroth?” she whispered. Something about the “taroth” rang a bell, but she couldn’t place her finger on it.

Her breath rushed through her nose as her eyes slid down the page. She didn’t recognize the cramped handwriting of the consul who’d written the report.

She read the first line in an almost soundless whisper. “‘Objective: Obtain concrete evidence that the mercenary assassin known as Ash works solely for, and answers only to, the Warlord of Hades.’”

Cold seeped through her until she was shivering in her chair. The word “assassin” glared on the page, but it was “Warlord of Hades” that chilled her to the bone.

Hades was the most powerful territory in the Underworld—and according to some, the most powerful in all three realms. It was ruled by Samael Hades, the single most powerful daemon alive.

And Ash worked for him?

Piper’s trembling fingers bit into the paper—and it was yanked out of her hand.

Zwi backed up the length of the table with the paper clamped in her mouth. Her wings were arched threateningly, making her look three times her usual size.

“Give that back,” Piper hissed. “Hey!”

The dragonet jumped off the table and dashed across the room, her head held awkwardly high to keep from tripping on the paper. Piper launched to her feet, but the dragonet was already squeezing through the partially open bedroom door. The tuft of black fur at the end of her tail disappeared.

Piper sank back into her chair.

Ash worked for Samael Hades. Maybe. The report had been searching for evidence. It wasn’t confirmed—or if it was, she hadn’t gotten to read that part.

She pressed a hand over her mouth. She’d known Ash had a bad reputation. She’d known he was dangerous. But an assassin working for the most tyrannical daemon in the realms?

Ash had helped her escape the Consulate, saved her from a prefect firing squad, and was getting her the information she needed to find her father. She assumed he was doing it because he was after the Sahar.

But he couldn’t be after the Sahar for Samael , could he? Samael had already possessed the Sahar before turning it over to the Consulates. Was Ash trying to steal the Sahar behind Samael’s back?

Closing her eyes, she saw Ash’s black-scaled hand stretched in front of her, each finger curving into a deadly talon.

He was far too dangerous. The moment she knew where to find the Gaians, she needed to ditch him—before she found out what he was really after.

When she’d asked Lyre what the dress code for Lilith’s nightclub was, his reply had been, “Feel free to test the limits of indecent exposure.”

So helpful.

Locked in the tiny bathroom, Piper stared into her backpack of clothing and sighed. How forgetful of her not to pack a studded leather corset while fleeing for her life.

With another sigh, she changed into her tightest jeans, their knees artfully ripped, and put on her usual butt-kicking boots with their hidden daggers. For a top, she used one of those daggers to roughly cut four inches off the hem of a tight black tank top so it would reveal her midriff from the bottom of her rib cage to the top of her hip bones. She checked that the Sahar Stone was still safely enclosed in the ring box, then jammed it back into her bra and made sure her boobs didn’t have any suspicious boxy edges.

She hadn’t packed any accessories or makeup—again, not exactly a priority while on the run—but digging down to the very bottom of her bag, she found an old eyeliner pencil. A bit of creative smudging gave her a sultry, smoky-eye look.

To finish off her transformation into a club goer, she flipped her hair upside down, roughed it up at the roots, then tied it into a high, messy ponytail.

She twisted her mouth at her reflection. Best she could do.

Exiting the bathroom, she stepped into the tiny main room. Her gaze landed on Ash where he stood by the table of folders, and a hot little thrill ran through her body from fingertips to toes.

The draconian was back in black, mysterious and intimidating. He wore jeans, heavy boots, and a sleeveless shirt that stretched across his pectorals. While the hard muscles of his upper arms were bare, scuffed leather bracers covered his forearms. His hair was in its usual braid against the left side of his head, that strip of red silk woven in.

He half turned to her, and his eyes drifted downward, taking in her outfit. That thrill under her skin burned a little more wherever his gaze touched her.

“Love the new look, beautiful.”

Lyre’s voice sounded right in her ear, and an embarrassing yelp escaped her as she jolted away from him.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” she said, her snap more breathless than reprimanding.

Lyre grinned. The only change he’d made to his outfit was adding a gray hoodie. It hung off him, a size too large, and he’d pulled the hood up so only a teasing glimpse of his tousled pale blond hair was visible. Shadows dimmed most of his face, dampening the magnetic power of his amber irises.

Frowning, she flicked another glance at Ash, then back to Lyre.

With a sly smile, Lyre sidled over to Ash, slid an arm over the draconian’s shoulders, and leaned into him.

“Two for one is always an option,” Lyre purred.

Piper rolled her eyes as Ash shrugged the incubus’s arm off him. “I wasn’t ogling you. I was wondering why the hell you haven’t changed.”

“I did change.”

She pointed at his hoodie. “How is that appropriate for a racy nightclub? You said to dress indecently.”

“I said you should. I don’t want to draw any attention in a succubus club.” He threw his arm over Ash’s shoulders again. “And I’ll be counting on my guardian here to keep me safe from the evil succubi.”

Piper expected Ash to snort or roll his eyes, but he didn’t react. Was Lyre joking or not? She shook her head again. “But now I look overdressed compared to you two.”

“You’ll fit in,” Ash said. “Are you ready to go?”

She huffed. “I need to repack my bag.”

“I’ll check on the car,” Lyre offered. “Make sure it’s still there and still runs.”

Piper retreated into the bathroom again. She muttered under her breath about wasting so much effort dressing up as she stuffed her clothes back into her backpack. She slung it over her shoulder and checked on the Sahar one more time. Satisfied, she cracked the bathroom door open.

Something growled quietly.

Piper froze, peering through the partially open door. Across the tiny apartment, Ash stood by the window, gazing out into the darkness.

Zwi was crouched on top of his head, gripping his hair with her tiny paws, her wings arched for balance. She curled her neck to look at him upside down, growling and lashing her tail.

He reached up to grab her—and she chomped on his fingers. Piper stifled a gasp, then realized it had been a playful bite. The dragonet latched on to his forearm with all four limbs, gnawing on his hand with mock ferocity.

Still staring out the window, he flipped Zwi around so she was hanging upside down, pinned between his arm and his chest. Trilling, she squirmed madly to get free, her tail flailing side to side.

Piper pressed her fist to her mouth, trying not to laugh. She swung the door the rest of the way open, making sure to bump it against the wall to announce her presence.

Ash glanced at her. Zwi stopped her escape attempt, blinking up at Piper. It was painfully adorable.

“Are you ready?” he asked as Piper joined him at the window.

“Yep, I have all my stuff”—she tossed her backpack onto the sofa—“and I repacked the briefcase earlier.”

He nodded, returning his attention to the window. Piper peered through the dirty glass, seeing nothing but the lights of nearby apartment buildings.

“How’s your leg?” she ventured. “Feeling okay after the healing?”

“It’s fine.”

She pressed her lips together. What a surprise, the mercenary assassin wasn’t chatty. She wasn’t even sure why she was attempting to have a conversation with him.

Okay, actually, she knew why. She wanted to ask him whether he was really Samael Hades’s personal hitman. But that was the kind of question that got stupid people killed.

“Vejovis was kind of strange,” she said instead. “Is it true that he’s immortal?”

“No daemon is immortal. Vejovis has been around for a long time, but I don’t know how old he is or what his caste is.”

As he spoke, he scooped Zwi up onto his shoulder. She cautiously stretched her neck out and sniffed at Piper’s ponytail. It was the closest the dragonet had ever gotten to her, and she tried not to move.

“Hello,” she whispered to Zwi, then realized Ash could easily hear her. “Uh… can she understand me?”

“Yes.”

“Like, as well as a person could?”

Zwi arched her neck and trilled emphatically.

“Yes,” Ash translated.

Piper’s eyes widened. “Wow. That’s amazing.”

“Many animal species in the Underworld are highly intelligent.”

Zwi made a low-pitched noise and lashed her tail. Ash continued to look out the window—then Zwi headbutted him. Piper winced.

Ash scowled at his dragonet. “Zwi isn’t an animal. She’s a dragon. It’s an important distinction.”

Zwi chirped with satisfaction.

“I see,” Piper said with a stifled smile. “What’s the Underworld like?”

Ash leaned his shoulder against the window frame. “Why ask me? Haven’t you asked other daemons at the Consulate?”

“I have, but they’re always so vague, like it’s a big secret.” She quirked an eyebrow. “ Is it a big secret?”

“Depends what you’ve been asking.”

She rolled her eyes. “What’s the weather like?”

His eyes finally flicked away from the window, surprise brushing over his features. “The weather? That’s what you want to know?”

“To start.”

He snorted. “The weather is different depending on where you are, just like this realm.”

“What’s it like where you live?”

His eyes narrowed. She definitely couldn’t sneak a revealing answer out of him that way. Why had she even bothered to try?

Blowing out a breath, she leaned against the wall beside the window, keeping Ash in her line of sight. “This is all so exhausting. Everyone is desperate to get their hands on the Stone, but I bet half the people after it wouldn’t even know what to do with unlimited magical power.”

“I know what I’d do.”

She almost didn’t want to ask. “What’s that?”

“Kill all my enemies.”

Knowing he probably had an extensive list of people he’d killed, it was an obvious but also unnerving answer. “Can’t you do that already? Draconians are a super powerful caste, right?”

“Magical ability isn’t all that matters.” He canted his head slightly. “Unless it’s unlimited.”

“Right,” she agreed with heavy skepticism.

He shrugged.

“I don’t know what I’d do with unlimited power, but if I had magic…” She sighed. “But I don’t, so whatever.”

He turned, his full attention settling on her for the first time since she’d joined him. A tiny shiver zinged down her spine. There was a tangible weight to his attention—an intensity of focus most people didn’t have.

“What would you do if you had magic?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

He waited.

Grimacing, she gestured vaguely. “I’d do exactly what I’m already doing, just with a hell of a lot less struggle. I’d be a consul. A really good one.”

“Why do you want to be a consul?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

A furrow of what seemed to be genuine bewilderment appeared between his eyebrows. “You’re a human?—”

“ Haemon .”

“—with no magic. Every daemon you encounter could kill you. Why would you want to risk your life as a consul if you don’t have to?”

A sassy deflection was ready on her tongue, but she swallowed it back and offered an honest reply instead. “I grew up in the Consulate. Every day since I was a little kid, I’ve met different daemons who look and talk and think and react in unexpected ways. I never know who’s going to walk in the door, what they’ll want, what they’ll need, what their secrets are. Sometimes they don’t need anything, but sometimes I can help them. It can be dangerous, yeah, but it’s also exciting and interesting and never boring.”

He contemplated her, holding her gaze without so much as a blink. “Hm.”

“ Hm ?” she repeated incredulously. “That’s it? No other response?”

“What were you expecting?”

“I figured you could share at least one complete sentence in return.”

Zwi trilled from his shoulder, a sound that resembled laughter.

“I enjoy being bored,” he said.

“Are you serious?”

“If I’m bored, then no one is trying to kill me.”

She gave him a dubious look. “How often are you bored?”

He arched an eyebrow, but there was no amusement on his face. “Almost never.”

As if that had been a cue, Zwi’s head snapped up, her golden eyes swiveling toward the door. The handle clattered and Lyre swept inside, breathing hard.

“Stairs,” he panted. “Also, prefects.”

Piper jerked away from the wall. “ Prefects? ”

Lyre nodded. “A squad of them just forced their way into the building. Quite a large squad. I really wish they’d find something more productive to do than chase us around the city.”

She looked rapidly between Lyre and Ash. “What should we do?”

Lyre combed his fingers through his hair, swiping the pale locks away from his eyes. Composure regained after his sprint up eight flights of stairs, he shrugged lazily. “Kill them all.”

She stared at him.

“Or sneak past them. Whichever you prefer.”

Ash grabbed his pack off the sofa. “A bloodbath will draw too much attention. We can slip out before they get up here if we move quickly.”

Shaking off her daze, Piper scooped up her backpack as well. The prefects had caught up to them again—and this time, she wanted to get out of the building without staring down the barrels of a dozen rifles first.